Willow in A Basket
by Peetabreadgirl
Summary: Katniss' worst fear comes true when her child goes missing.


**Can you tell yet that I'm cleaning out my docs? These are all one shots I posted to tumblr but never uploaded here. Some short, some long, some sweet, some strange. This came from an anon request about a picture I reblogged of kittens sleeping in a basket with a toddler. It was adorable!**

* * *

"Hey," Peeta says as he walks into the kitchen after a long day at the bakery. I turn to see him covered in the usual - flour and icing, though the color of the icing varies from time to time. Today it's the same shade of blue as his eyes. He smiles and I can't recall a time that it didn't make my stomach flutter.

Peeta comes to kiss me, and I lean forward and onto my toes. My belly is too big to allow our bodies to fit flush together, unless my back is to his chest. It's the only way I can sleep these days, and I can't wait for tonight. I'm exhausted and I just want him to hold me.

"Where's Willow?" he asks.

"She went next door to feed the geese with Haymitch." I move back to the stove to continue stirring the stew I'm preparing for dinner. Peeta is the cook of the family, but I like to help out when I can, and since I haven't been able to hunt like I normally would have, I've been trying to make myself useful in other areas. There are so many things to do before the baby comes, and with Peeta working long, hard hours, I want to do as much at home for him as possible.

I bring my hand to cover my mouth, feeling a yawn approaching.

"Tired?" Peeta asks as he rubs my lower back in the place he knows helps relieve my daily tension and relax me. I have to stop stirring the soup and just be still, enjoying his skillful hands on me. I swear every woman needs to marry a baker.

"You have no idea," I say absently, realizing at once how stupid it sounds. Of course he knows. He gets up at four a.m. and works twelve hour shifts most days at our bakery.

"No, I don't," he replies, agreeing with me even though he does know. "I have no idea what it's like to be eight months pregnant and chase around a three year old." This is true. He doesn't know that exactly, but I still feel like I need to explain my day.

"Willow wouldn't take her nap." Peeta acknowledges with an 'ah', and the way he says it tells me he understands perfectly. Willow is precious and I wouldn't change my daughter in the slightest, but she's a fireball - just like her mother, Peeta says. She tires me out on days when she _does_ take a nap, so a napless day makes for an almost debilitating fatigue.

"I'll give you a massage tonight," I promise him, knowing he's just as tired as I am. I lean my head back onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around my middle, gently resting on top of my watermelon-sized belly. The baby pushes at the weight. I wince, and Peeta laughs, rubbing the tender spot until the tiny heel, knee or elbow relaxes back into my womb. He loves being a dad, and I love watching him be one.

"I'll go get Willow," Peeta says as he unwraps his arms from me and heads for the door.

"Wait! Take this to Haymitch and tell him thank you for letting her come over." I quickly ladle some of the soup into a bowl, wrap it up and hand it to Peeta. After he leaves I sit down at the table, desperate to get the extra weight off my throbbing ankles. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I hear is the front door hitting the wall with a bang loud enough to startle me out of the chair, and at eight months pregnant I'm too large to move that quickly.

"She's not there. Haymitch says she left an hour ago," Peeta tells me, and I can see there's a slight edge of panic to his voice. He leaves the kitchen and I follow quickly behind, both of us calling Willow's name throughout the large house. We split up to cover more ground, Peeta searching the upstairs, leaving me to search down. We hear nothing. See nothing.

An irrational dread settles deep in my chest at the thought I may never see her again. Who knows how long she's been missing? According to Haymitch, Willow has been gone over an hour already. What if someone came into the Village and grabbed her? What if she wandered off into the woods? I try not to think of all the horrifying circumstances a four year old could encounter in the woods alone. I try not to think of hungry wolves and poisonous snakes. Thankfully, Peeta interrupts my thoughts.

"Katniss, calm down. We'll find her," says Peeta in a soothing voice upon seeing me about to hyperventilate. "She's not upstairs."

"I'll go look outside. Would you check the downstairs again? I'm too big to look under things." Peeta nods and starts searching again while I slip into my boots and waddle out the front door and down the porch steps, calling Willow's name.

"You lost something, Sweetheart?" Haymitch yells at me from his property line. I love Haymitch, but sometimes I want to slap the stupid out of him. I'm frantically calling Willow's name, and he's wondering what I'm doing. The years of alcohol have really messed with his head.

"Shut up and help me find Willow," I yell back, too focused to get into an argument with him.

"Already did," answers Haymitch. A bubble of hope bursts through the fear at his words.

"Where? Is she okay? Why didn't you come get us? Is she hurt?" The questions spill out of my mouth so fast as I jog towards him, holding my belly up to keep it from bouncing painfully, that he doesn't have time to answer any of them.

"Slow down, mama bear. She's fine. Sleeping over there." Haymitch points to his pen of geese. l see nothing but birds lounging in the sun, and a large box in the corner.

"Where?" I ask irritably. Can I just see that she's okay already? My mind is still screaming at me in fear.

I hear Peeta on the porch, and in record time he makes it to where we stand. It's nice to know that in an emergency his leg is reliable.

"In the box," Haymitch tells us as he turns back towards his home. Peeta and I walk quickly to the pen, opening the gate hastily and sending a dozen geese into a honking frenzy. Peering into the box, I wasn't sure what I would find, but I know the picture will never leave my memory.

There is Willow, curled into a ball and taking up much of the space the small box has to offer. The goslings that were born just a few weeks ago are snuggled all around her in sleep. One is in the crook of her elbow, another stretched across her neck, while some are huddled into the space between her belly and her knees.

Peeta swipes his thumb across my cheek, and I realize when my vision blurs that a few tears have fallen.

"She's fine," he says. I nod my head, feeling silly for the panic I allowed to have such a hold on me after all these years. There are some feelings you just don't forget, and losing a loved one is one of them. It is my biggest fear, losing Willow, or Peeta or the baby. I don't know if I'll ever conquer it, and I think I'm okay with that because it keeps me grateful, knowing one day they may not be in my life. I will cherish every moment I have with them.

Peeta scoops out the goslings, setting them on the ground as they wake in protest and scramble off to find their mothers. I notice their waddling, and I wonder if that's what I look like.

The sight of Willow being lifted out of the box into his arms takes my breath away, and squashes the terror from earlier. I love it. I love that he loves our daughter so much. I will never tire of seeing how much he loves and cares for us all.

After dinner is through, the dishes are cleaned and Willow is put to to bed, that is what gives me peace for the night as I fall asleep, my back to Peeta's chest and his arms resting protectively on our baby.

* * *

 **I had the perfect story for this request, since it had just happened to me! It is every parent's worst nightmare, to not know where their child is. My son went to play next door, but instead of telling me he was tired, he just went to lay down in his bed. I sent my daughter to the neighbor's house after 3 hours, and she came back to tell me that he had never been there. I freaked out! I was sure he'd gone outside. So my daughter randomly went to check his room and came out with 'It's okay mom, he's fine. He's just sleeping.' I was so relieved! But then worried because my son NEVER voluntarily naps. As soon as he woke up, he puked everywhere. Commence the nasty vomiting bug! I so wish I had found him curled up in a box of adorable puppies instead of in vomit. Thanks for reading! Pbg**


End file.
